


The Gauntlet

by Helen8462



Series: Tumbler Prompts, Challenges and Other Inspired Vignettes [10]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Contests, F/M, Holodeck, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 19:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/pseuds/Helen8462
Summary: Right before she slapped him, he was certain he saw her smile.





	The Gauntlet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiaCooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/gifts).



> Mia Cooper and I have engaged in a bit of a throw down, a creative gauntlet if you will. This is response to the challenge to write around the first line. Also, I may have stolen shamelessly from the fantastic movie “First Knight” (which you have to see if you haven’t, it’s so good).
> 
> Unbeta’d and done in 24 hours. You’ve been warned.

* * *

Right before she slapped him, he was certain he saw her smile.

Right after she slapped him, well.  That’s what really took him by surprise. 

It had started out as an innocent comment over dinner one evening in the mess hall.  The comment quickly morphed into a sizeable amount of smack talk and then eventually ended in a throw down.

Who was the fastest, the strongest, the most agile of the group of four – Tom, B’Elanna, Harry or Chakotay?  Before long, good-natured ribbing spread like wildfire to the other tables and less than an hour later, Neelix found himself organizing a competition. 

The test of speed and strength was quickly opened to the whole crew, and thirty-one members signed up.  Of course, those who would have likely offered the best showing, Tuvok and Seven, couldn’t be persuaded to participate.  The Doctor also reluctantly agreed to disqualify himself adding that his victory over ‘the solids’ would have been hollow anyway.

Over the course of the chosen day, participants reported to the holodeck.  First, came the race.  Competitors sprinted two kilometers.  Their times were converted to a score and then added to the second event – a dead-weight lift.  The eight competitors with the highest scores– taking into account handicaps for the women - would advance to a final round, one week later.

By the end of trials, there emerged five men and three women finalists.

Since Tom Paris had been swiftly and embarrassingly eliminated due to his apparent lack of upper body strength, he whole-heartedly agreed to design the final round.  Three days before the event, the holo-program was ready and he took the competitors on a tour.

Tom ushered the gang of eight onto a dirt-floored courtyard.  Before them was a lengthy, rickety looking wooden structure and to most it appeared to be more of a torture device than a test of agility.  Encompassing the quad was a large stone wall complete with a parapet walkway.  The walkway met at both sides to a set of gigantic, and authentic looking, back doors of a castle.  One story up, sat a balcony.

“I give you, the Gauntlet,” Tom boasted proudly.  He was met with bemoaned sighs and raised eyebrows.  “It’s a medieval obstacle course,” he said excitedly. 

B’Elanna groaned.  “A gauntlet,” she repeated, shaking her head. 

“Did he tell you about this?” Chakotay asked, eyeing her sideways. 

“No, I swear.  He wouldn’t tell me a word.  Do you honestly think I would have let him –“

“Ahem,” Tom cleared his throat.   “Like we said in our original discussion –“

“You mean your pissing match,” Ayala interrupted.

“Right,” Tom acknowledged.  “Like we said.  This was supposed to be a test of speed, strength _and_ agility.” 

“Looks pretty simple to me, Lieutenant,” Ensign Vorik observed.  “Are we meant only to get from one end to the other?”  

“Yes.  And it looks simple because it’s not moving yet.”

“It moves?” Crewman T’Mar asked, her eyebrow raised nearly as high as her Vulcan counterpart’s.

Paris was about to spring his creation to life when Ensign Ashmore piped up.  “What does the winner get, other than bragging rights?  Cause if I’m going to look like a fool on this thing it’d better be worth it.” 

“The losers from the first round each gave one hour of their holodeck rations for the winner.  The captain and a few others also donated.  First place takes all.  Twenty-seven hours.”

“Yeah,” Ashmore agreed.  “That’s worth it.”

With stakes raised, the competitors set about to study their challenge. 

“Computer, activate the gauntlet.  Medium speed,” Paris ordered.  The great machine creaked to life as the group walked the length and breadth of it. 

There were wooden walls of various pitch to climb, gaps to jump with the assistance of coarse ropes and large, spinning spheres to dodge.  At the end, a series of pendulum axes swinging wildly would have to be traversed with special care.

“It looks like someone could get hurt on this thing,” Ensign Lang said softly to Crewman Fitzpatrick as she walked. 

“Don’t worry,” Tom replied.  You’ll have gear.  And, the safeties will be on.  You might get a bump or bruise but nothing worse than that.”

“We’re going to have to get the Captain to okay this,” Chakotay said when they had reached the end. 

“I think it looks fantastic,” came a voice from behind.  The group spun to see Captain Janeway entering with Neelix in tow.  She joined them at the end of the course and set her hand on one of the wooden stanchions.  “I’ve always been fascinated with medieval culture.    Well done Mr. Paris.”

“Well then, Captain,” Tom said, glowing from the high praise.  “In that case, I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to preside over the event.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

“Computer, add a medieval Queen’s throne to the balcony.” 

Janeway watched in mild disbelief as the royal seat materialized.  “Oh, no,” she began.  “I’m not sure I want to be a Queen for another one of your holodeck programs.”

“Trust me, ma’am.  This time you will really just get to sit back and enjoy the fruits of your reign.”

Janeway glanced up to the balcony, then back to the group.  It was, of course, too good of an opportunity to pass up.  “Okay then,” she agreed with a grin.  “I’ll be your Queen for the day.”

* * *

During the next three days, Voyager was abuzz with rumor and speculation.  The field was diversified in every which way and the crew didn’t take long to pick their favorite individual as well as their favorite team.  Most often betting was centered on was which department would make the best showing - Engineering had B’Elanna, Vorik and Ashmore after all.  Sometimes the wagers were on Starfleet versus Maquis – surely the team of Ayala, Chakotay, B’Elanna and T’Mar couldn’t be stopped.  From the individual front, Vorik had Vulcan strength on his side, though Lang had been rumored to have been a gymnast in her teenage years.   

On the morning of the competition, the only thing certain was that no one could predict who would emerge victorious.  They couldn’t even be sure what victory would look like, though consensus was that the victor would emerge with minimal blood loss, all of their limbs intact and without a concussion.

The side-pools were open.  Replicator rations, duty shifts and bragging rights were on the line.  Attendees, dressed as courtiers and peasants mixed with holographic extras waited in eager anticipation. 

One by one, in reverse-rank order, the competitors entered the great contraption.  Each one made it over the walls and across the pits with relative ease.  But once they started into the spinning balls things got interesting. 

The first three – Fitzpatrick, T’Mar and Lang – lost their footing while dodging the whirling globes and fell to the soft padding which had been aptly placed on the ground below. 

Sighs and groans were issued from the audience with each failure.  Janeway, dressed in full period regalia, looked on with eager anticipation from her balcony.  “Represent Command well,” she had told Chakotay and Ayala.  And both had taken her request rather personally.

Ashmore made it past the globes only to fall when his grip on a rope loosened and he let go while swinging.  Vorik did not falter there, but instead miscalculated a swinging pendulum – which he would later say was fluctuating randomly and not at all precisely enough for him to have executed a proper maneuver.

That left only Ayala, B’Elanna and Chakotay.

Tom bit his lip nervously and hoped only that someone would make it through.  If everyone failed, he’d be the one looking like a fool.

And then, Ayala made it.  He went all the way to the end with such aplomb one would have thought he was merely going for a Sunday stroll.   The crowd hooted and roared.  Tom let go of a huge sigh of relief as he took in Ayala’s wide grin.   _‘Hm,’_ he thought, observing the Lieutenant.  _‘So that guy does smile….’_

Once the cheering had subsided, Tom finished with the final buckle on his wife’s leather armor.  Then he gave her a peck on the cheek – which she quickly wiped off. 

To B’Elanna’s credit, she made it farther than most of the men had.  She climbed the wall and jumped the gaps, made it past the spinning globes and onto the rope.  But then, at the pendulums, adrenaline got the better of her.  She didn’t wait long enough and, whack.  Off she went. 

The crowd let go of a heavy “aww,” to which B’Elanna replied with a grunt and a slap of her hands in the dirt.

Chakotay readied himself at the entrance to the course.  He allowed one fleeting look back to the Captain, who showed her support by way of a smile and a nod.  With a deep breath, he began. 

And.

He made it.

All the way through.

The crowd went wild.  The Captain-turned-Queen was on her feet.  Ayala grabbed Chakotay’s hand and raised them both into the air victoriously. 

But of course, now there was a tie to break. 

This time, the gauntlet would be a race.

After allowing a few minutes for the commander to regain his breath, the two competitors met again at the beginning.  Chakotay knew that the lieutenant would gain on him quickly out of the gate.  The younger man was much faster, and admittedly, in slightly better shape than he was.  But, he had seen Ayala falter ever-so-slightly at the globes then again at the pendulums.  If he could keep up, he might force the younger man to act too quickly, misjudge and be forced off the course. 

Chakotay was right about the beginning.  Ayala beat him out over the walls and across the gaps.  The younger man waited though.  He was more hesitant at the globes than in the first round and Chakotay caught up.  They were neck and neck across twin sets of ropes.  It all came down to the pendulums. 

The commander calmed his breath and remembered his boxer’s training.  He bobbed and weaved, waiting for the right opportunities, pushing the other competitor out of his focus completely.  Ayala, on the other hand, grew impatient to make up his lost lead and in his haste he miscalculated.  With a thud, he fell to the ground. 

Chakotay kept his cool and made it to the end once again.  He hopped off of the platform to the percussion of thunderous applause, went under the structure and helped Ayala up by the hand.  Then he led his friend to the center of the boisterous courtyard.

“To the victor go the spoils!” Janeway shouted, standing now in front of her throne.  Clearly, she was very pleased.

Neelix, dressed as court Jester, presented her with an ornate gold box with red velvet lining from which she removed a data chip.  With an underhand stroke she tossed it down from her balcony.  Chakotay caught it easily just above his head.  He considered the valuable prize in his hand.  Then he looked back up to her.  A mischievous grin spread over his face.   The crowd grew silent, waiting for a victory speech. 

“My worthy opponent may have these winnings,” he said loudly, holding the chip up for all to see.  A confused Ayala turned to him and Chakotay placed the object in his palm dramatically. 

Spinning back to Janeway before her throne, he announced, “The victor wants a kiss from the Queen.”

The crowd gasped.  To the hum of low whispers and chatter, Chakotay took three bounding steps toward the castle doors.  He leapt first onto a rain barrel, from there he was able to jump and grab the bottom of the balusters where he executed a pull-up, placed his feet onto a sconce and climbed the rest of the way over the parapet. 

Two of the Queen’s personal – albeit holographic - guards quickly moved to intercept him.  Chakotay floored the first one with a quick jab to the nose while Janeway called off the other with a quick “Let him come.”

She stood, straight and sure to face Chakotay.  The holographic characters below, continuing to take their cues from the flesh-and-blood participants quieted down and everyone stared. 

Tom leaned over to whisper in his wife’s ear.  “He’s not really going to….”

“Shhhhh…..” she chastised, elbowing him in the ribs.

Chakotay remained still, sweat coating his brow.  She observed the way the leather armor clung to his body, making him seem larger than life and certainly more well-defined than he ever did in his uniform.

In that same split second, he allowed himself to look up at her eyes.  Then he slowly, respectfully brought his gaze back down the bodice of her dress, taking note of the way it drew her pale flesh upwards to accentuate the curve of her breasts.  A very regal, lavender jacket fit over her shoulders and flowed down her wrists to meet the cuff of her gloves, which is where his eyes finished their journey. 

Janeway’s breath grew heavy.  The seconds dragged.  As she waited for him to make his next move, she became blissfully unaware of the crowd that had now shifted even closer to them from below.

Chakotay reached out and gathered her gloved hand from where it rested at her side.  He studied it - ivory satin laid over slender fingers and intricate gold lace just above the protrusion of her wrist.  After having considered it fully, then and only then, did he allow his gaze to rest on her face.

He saw in her eyes exactly what he wanted to see - the perfect mixture of hesitation and trust.  A hidden glimmer of longing mixed with ‘don’t you dare.’

With a smile, he sunk deeply onto one knee.  Then, pulling her hand forward, he laid a gentle kiss on the silken fabric.  His eyes traced upwards once again giving a look of withheld, but reverent desire.

The crowd erupted. 

Janeway closed her eyes and took in the feeling of his warm breath, lingering but muted by fabric.  As he rose and stood before her she began to very purposefully tug at the glove one finger at a time, working it loose with deliberate consideration.  Chakotay saw a smile come across her face.  Then, she rose the glove back, hauled off and slapped him straight across the cheek.

The crowd gasped.

“One does not kiss a Queen without permission,” she chastised. 

“I beg pardon, my lady,” Chakotay apologized, bowing his head with dimples still peeking through a not-quite-contained grin.

She glanced ever-so-slightly back out at the multitude of witnesses.  Then, she grabbed his leather vest with one hand.  She rose up on her toes and wrapped the fingers of her other hand around the hair on the back of his head.  She dragged him down close and kissed him passionately.

Not a sound could be heard in the whole of the courtyard when their lips found each other’s. 

Not a single eye strayed while their kiss deepened. 

The only movement to be perceived was of B’Elanna’s fingers gripping onto the side of her husband’s sleeve.

Then, in an instant, Janeway tore herself away.  She took a large step back and pointed right at Chakotay’s chest.

“Thrown him in the dungeon,” she ordered, with an evilly playful smile.  Whooping and cheering erupted, shaking the place once again.  The guards grabbed a grinning Chakotay by each arm and led him away. 

Once the commotion had died down, Janeway announced, “A feast awaits, friends,” to which a second set of guards opened the lower doors, allowing entrance to the celebration within.

Janeway remained on the balcony, hands resting on the balustrade while she watched the crowd disappear into the room below.  Then, she followed the way the guards had taken Chakotay.

She found him sitting alone, at the bottom of the stone stairwell.

“Tom didn’t think to program a dungeon,” he said with a smile. 

“I guess I should have ordered you to the brig,” she retorted, guiding the short train of her dress behind her.  He rose to take her hand and assist her the rest of the way down the steps.

“You would have needed different guards.”

“I guess I would have!” she chuckled.  “Apparently my mighty rule over the kingdom ends at the doors to the holodeck.”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly.  I don’t think anyone would object if you chose to wear that on the bridge.”

She laughed again and sat down beside him.  He laid a gentle arm around her shoulder.

“Nice job out there, Chakotay.  I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d make it.  Especially that second time.”

“Really?” he asked, somewhat surprised.  “Oh ye of little faith.”

“Come on.  Don’t tell me you were certain you’d win.”

Chakotay nodded confidently.  “Absolutely, I had to.”

“Why is that?  And please, don’t tell me it was for pride’s sake.”

“Nope,” he said, then he leaned in close, twined his fingers through her tousled hair, and urged her lips to his once again.  After a long while they separated and she leaned her head onto his leather-bound chest.

“I had to claim my prize.”


End file.
